Like this:

In our modern society, technology has made our lives that little bit easier. We can now contact our friends whenever and wherever we want, we have an unlimited source of information to hand 24/7 via the internet and toilets in Japan wash your undercarriage for you when you’re done.

On occasion technology can be a proper pain in the ass when something fails to work.

Case in point…

I noticed at the train station this morning that the sliding entrance doors to the building were ‘out of service’. I know this because someone had taped a very untechnological piece of A4 paper to the door; I can only assume to prevent those of us reliant on technology walking into them face first.

It can happen. I’ve seen it. Fucking funny.

It got me thinking about how a door can be ‘out of service’. If someone says the word ‘door’ we tend to conjure up an image of a rectangular wooden affair with a handle, on hinges, in a frame. The door may be locked, the door may ‘stick a little’, it may even have busted hinges and needs a bit of a push to open…but never ever is it ‘out of service’.

What next?

“I’m sorry, this pot pourri is out of service”.
“I’m afraid the lawn is malfunctioning”.
“I do apologise but the cutlery is out of order”.

(Well actually, to someone with OCD that last one is already a stark reality).

Back in the 80’s I used to dream of the day we would have cool sliding doors like the corridors of the Starship Enterprise. Now they’re an every day reality which we all take for granted, as well as the fact that they regularly break down. We simply read the poorly spelt A4 warning and go to the ‘adjecant door’.

This never happened to Kirk; ever.

And as I remember the embarrassment a few months ago of standing in a revolving door waiting for it to move, only to be told I had to push it; I ask myself this….

Like this:

I haven’t done a proper blog entry in a while, and I suppose a lot of that is down to procrastination and a lack of interesting things to comment on.

To be honest though, today is not much different.

Having said that, I’m in a particularly shitty mood right now. Shall I share? Oh alright then.

There will always be those individuals who we can’t stand working with, from the depressing mood hoovers to the arrogant sociopaths who sit at the next desk scowling at the world. It’s my job to train, coach and develop these people to be better sales/customer service people.

Actually it’s a challenge to get most of them to be nice to their own mothers to be honest.

As part of my job it’s vital that I remain upbeat, positive and friendly; but on occasion I want to walk over to their desk and punch them square in the chops, the arrogant sour faced bastards.

Today I got quite frustrated because my need to choke the shit out of some arrogant turd had to be suppressed to the point of bursting a blood vessel. In fact I had to go out for a walk in the cool January air just to prevent any actual violence taking place. Luckily for me it started to rain which you thought would’ve made matters worse, but it was still preferable to being within throttling distance from the arsebiscuit who had made my knuckles itch because of the way he’d spoken to a customer.

I had this overwhelming desire to poke his eyes out and replace them with his own testicles so he resembled some sort of bollock-eyed goblin, but my professionalism and desire to evade prison prevented me from doing so.

I’m not an angry man by nature, but when I’m starting to form weapons in my mind from office supplies, alarm bells start ringing.

(slowly puts his stapler in his drawer)

So what do I do now?

I’ve still got half the day to go and I’m ready to destroy someone with a finely sharpened sellotape dispenser.

Like this:

For the uninitiated it’s basically a genius little egg shaped piece of hollow plastic with one side that resembles a mini cheese grater. It’s designed to go one step further than a pumice stone by safely shaving off the dead and hard skin from your feet; collecting the detritus inside the hollow egg so it can be emptied into a bin later. Clever huh?

They’re actually very effective.

What I find a little distressing is that they produces a beige dust remarkably similar to finely grated parmesan.